


Don't Wake Up

by meredithhildebrand



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love, baz helps him but of course he's still pining for him, i don't know what else to post, i love these characters, probably end of eighth year, seriously they're my favourites, simon goes off, this is also sort of old but welp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 11:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10740348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meredithhildebrand/pseuds/meredithhildebrand
Summary: Simon goes off, worse than all the other times, and Baz helps him.





	Don't Wake Up

  
SIMON  
  
I feel Baz glaring at me, and my fists clench into tight fists at my sides.  
I hear Baz snicker loudly; just to spite me.  
“You doing alright, Snow?” Baz asks, his voice completely scornful. I glare and growl at him, even though he can’t see me.  
“What’s your problem?” I ask Baz, with daggers in my voice; my teeth are clenched tightly together, and it almost hurts, but I swallow the pain.  
Baz just laughs. I spin around and growl at him loudly, with my wand pointed directly at his chest.  
It’s dark outside; I know it’s close to midnight. Baz’s hands are in his jumper pockets, and he looks utterly relaxed, as if I’m _not_ a millimeter away from incinerating him to the ground in a pile of black ashes.  
I know he’s a vampire, I know it; under the rules of the Coven, I could kill him if I wanted to. Aren’t vampires’ immortal? I don’t know; Penelope would, I think. She always knows about that sort of thing.  
I feel my magic beginning to boil in my veins; I feel it surging through my stomach, wanting to escape. Baz’s face changes, and he holds out his hand; I don’t know why.  
“Simon, stop,” he says sharply to me, but there’s something deeper beneath the sound of his voice. Something that I can’t place.  
I’m breathing heavily; hyperventilating, and I can’t reply. Baz takes a step towards me and I take a step backwards. My body is beginning to burn up and my arm is shaking.  
“Simon, please. Stop,” Baz pleads. “You can’t do this,” he says.

_Why not, Baz? Huh? Why not?_

I can’t talk to him; not now.  
Baz begins to walk towards me, slowly, and I want to take a step back even though I can’t. I really can’t step back; I’m frozen. Did Baz put a **Stand Your Ground** on me? If he did, I don’t know what he’s trying to accomplish. I know now that putting any spell on me, no matter how powerful it is, doesn’t stop me from going off. I shut my eyes, and red flashes, like the colour of blood. I can’t see or hear Baz anymore, but I feel two steady weights on my shoulders. Is that Baz? I try to open my eyes, but I’m lost in a supernova; I can’t feel anything, only redness and darkness. My power radiates off of me; I can feel it, rattling the ground. Rattling the bones inside my body.  
I feel my body shaking and suddenly  
everything goes dark.

 

  
BAZ  
  
Merlin. What do I do now?  
Snow is lying on the ground in a tangle of limbs. I see the golden-bronze glow of his hair, and his red jumper, and beige trousers, but nothing else.  
I set a hand to his forehead; it’s warm, and it burns my fingers. I pull back and curse quietly.  
“Merlin, Snow,” I whisper, even though no one is around to do or say anything.   
Simon’s eyes are closed; I see a mole on his left eyelid. I begin to feel sweat bead on my forehead and I wipe my hand over the skin. My body is shivering. What do I do? Is he dead?  
_No, Baz. He’s not dead, you know that,  you know that, you know that, you know that_ , I tell myself. He can’t be dead, not the Chosen One, not my Simon.  
Simon.  
In a blind flash of incoherent thought, my arms are wrapped around his back and I’m lifting him up, and I know I shouldn’t be doing this, but I have to. Not just for him, but for me as well.  
It’s never been this bad before; he’s never fainted like this when he’s gone off.  
For the first time, Simon Snow is cold in my arms. Cold, like snow itself. His face has gone eerily pale and his normally pink lips have now gone a chalky white colour, and I begin to run up the Great Lawn. I pull my wand out of my back pocket and point it up to the sky, and shout out a levitation spell. I begin to feel warm magic pool around my feet, and then I feel myself being pushed upwards, up past the stone bricks of Mummers House. We past by dark window after window, until we finally reach the window of our room. Thank Merlin it’s open; I don’t know how I could get it open without dropping Simon to the ground.  
I drop into the room and set Snow on his bed, and pull up the comforter over his shivering body.  
He's barely breathing; even with my vampire hearing senses, I know that he’s close to death. If it weren’t for my vampire senses, I wouldn’t be able to see Snow’s chest slightly rise and contract with each shaking breath he takes.  
I’m fiddling with my wand in my hand, trying to think of a healing spell. **Right as Rain** or **Early to Bed, Early to Rise** wouldn’t work; I know that. Our room is completely dark, and I run my fingers shakily through my black hair, messing it. Merlin, I don’t know what to do. For the first time in my whole life, I don’t know what to do, and my heartrate picks up; I can feel it pounding inside my shaking chest.  
I close my eyes. Keep it together, Pitch. Keep it _together_. I can’t lose my mind in this type of situation. Simon is close to death; I at least think he is, but I can’t be sure.  
I wave my wand and whisper a spell; the lights in our room flicker on, setting a warm, yellowish glow onto the room. Our reflections are mirrored in the open window; I turn my head to look. I stare at myself. I look awful; red rims are around my eyes and my skin is pale, paler than usual. My clothes are tattered; how the hell did _that_ happen? I look like I just ran through the Wavering Wood.  
I then see Snow’s reflection in the window, and my throat closes. Simon is beginning to flicker; his whole body is beginning to fade away from my sight.  
My heartrate picks up again and I shout out every healing spell that I know onto Snow’s body until I’m completely exhausted.

  
I fall to the floor in absolute exhaustion and despair; blackness closes into my vision, and everything fades away.

 

  
\---  
  
When I wake, my head is lying sideways, facing my bed. I’m on my feet in a split-second and almost collapse in relief when I see that Simon is still here.  
I let out a deep breath and stare at Snow, whose skin is still pale; but his lips have regained some of their normal pinkish colour.  
I walk over to him and sit beside him on the bed. He’s breathing, at a normal rate and volume, and his body isn’t flickering anymore. I run a hand through my hair, and suck my fangs in my mouth. They cut the skin on the inside of my cheek and I wince.  
Snow blinks and stirs; I step back, but almost fall of the bed in the process. I look back to see Simon’s blue eyes open, and his mouth is slightly parted, almost as if he wants to speak.  
“Baz?” he croaks out, and my vocal chords snap in half. I don’t know what to do or say; my words have fled my brain.  
“I’m here, Snow,” I finally say, and my voices surprises me; it sounds steady. Snow blinks, and his glassy blue eyes drift onto me and then lock onto my gaze. My throat feels dry.  
“What happened?” Simon asks; his voice is quiet and hoarse, and I have to strain to hear him.  
“You fainted when you went off,” I say evenly, without any trace of noticeable emotion. Snow’s expression darkens.  
“I did what?” he asks.  
I resist the urge to roll my eyes; leave it to Snow to never understand anything I say. I sit on the bed, beside him. He looks disoriented; more than usual.  
“You _fainted_ ,” I say. Snow doesn’t register, but he struggles to sit up; he tries to prop himself on his elbows. I lunge forward and set my hands on his shoulders.  
“Careful, Snow,” I say softly. Snow falls back on the bed; his head hits the pillow. His bronze curls tumble over his forehead and into his eyes.  
He's silent, and I pull his blanket over him; he’s somehow shaken it off.  
Simon’s eyes fall shut; he looks peaceful, and I resist the urge to run my hands through his curls. Despite everything that’s happened,I can't help but feel that my love for him never wavers; I think I’ve somehow grown more in love with him. Everything he does to me is perfect, even his smallest breath, even his rosy blush that covers his cheeks when I taunt him, even his unwavering growl that he aims at me constantly.  
Despite the awfulness of the situation, I smile. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive. I don’t know if he’s okay, but he’s alive, and that is what matters.

All I want to do is to heal his battle scars. 

I want to fix him. I want to wear his despair on my skin. I want him to know that he's what keeps me here. I want him to know that I'll stand his ground for him if he can't. I want to wipe his tears and hold him when he can't keep himself together, I want to _fix_ him.

But I can't. Not now, probably not ever.

   
I sit by him until the sun sets; my back aches and my limbs are tired, but I don’t leave his side, even when he wakes up.  
It's just about dark; it’s twilight now, but he wakes.  
“I’m here,” I say; the words come out of my mouth before I can stop them. Simon stirs and he struggles up until he’s on his elbows. His eyes are open; he looks significantly better than before, and I raise an eyebrow.  
“Alright, Snow?” I ask.  
He blinks around the room a few times before finally focusing on me, and when he does, he scrambles up back against the headboard of his bed. His blue eyes are wild; afraid, and a glare is on his face.  
“What are you doing?” he asks sharply. He’s tense; he looks like he’s about to pounce onto me. His knees are pulled into his chest and his hands scramble for his wand, even though I’ve put it in the drawer of my desk. I can’t have him have it; not now, when he’s still extremely vulnerable.  
“ _What_ are you doing, Baz?” Snow asks, and I jerk back to attention.  
“Saving your life,” I say without wavering. Snow glares.  
“Where’s my wand, Baz? Huh? _Where’s my wand?”_ he replies, with daggers in his voice, and it’s beginning to rise. I hold an arm out, to calm him, but that just seems like it’s worsening his anxiety.   
“Get away from me,” he growls, and my arm comes back.  
“Calm down, Simon,” I say without manageable thought; something flashes across Snow’s face, and he looks almost calm, almost giddy.  
He narrows his eyebrows. “Are you trying to kill me?” he asks softly.  
Kill him? Why would I do that? “Snow, why would I kill you?” I ask sharply; icier than I meant it to be. Snow leans back, and I rephrase my words. “If I were going to kill you, I would’ve done it already, you moron,” I say, but immediately wish I hadn’t said the words; I don’t mean them, and I never will, not in this lifetime, not ever.  
Snow glares. “Alright,” he says with his teeth clenched. I stand up and get off his bed. Snow sighs.  
“What are you doing?” he asks again, this time his voice calmer than before.  
I clear my throat. “I told you, Snow. I’m saving your pathetic life,” I say. Snow scoffs and runs his hands through his messy bronze curls.  
“Alright then,” he says finally, his gaze softening; Snow, although very grudge-worthy, never seems to stay angry at me for a long amount of time, but when he does, it usually ends up with him going off and obliterating everything in his wake.  
“Well,” I say. “You need rest, Simon,” I say.  
Snow’s expression changes, and he raises an eyebrow slowly. The motion makes his facial features sharpen, like an elf’s. I like it, I think.  
“You called me Simon,” he replies, and a small smile crosses his face. I look at him sharply.  
“No, I didn’t,” I say, even though I know he’s right; the stupid moron always is.  
Snow begins to giddily laugh; his blue eyes are bright.  
“You totally did, Baz,” he says while laughing. He closes his eyes and resumes his laughter; this is when I allow myself the smallest smile possible. I can’t let him see my unwavering amusement with this; not now, not when he and I both are probably the most vulnerable we’ve ever been, and it’s now when I realize that Snow and I are having a civil conversation with each other for the first time in our lives.  
I clear my throat, in an attempt to get his attention, but he still laughs.  
“Snow, stop it,” I say. Simon clamps a hand over his mouth to stop his laughter; his eyes open, and when he sees my sharp expression, he begins to cease his laughter.  
“I’m leaving,” I say, and turn towards the door, but don’t get very far; Snow somehow lunges out and grabs my wrist, pulling me onto the bed. His blue eyes are deep; I feel like I could fall into them somehow.  
  
I do.  
Before my knowledgeable thought kicks in, I suddenly see black and feel two lips pressed against my own cold ones.  
What is happening? Am I dreaming?  
I know I’m not dreaming, because I if I am, I should be awake by now; I always am. I distantly feel two hands travel down my shoulders and forearms, then back to my face, where they originally resided.

  
SIMON  
  
Crowley, what am I doing?  
I don’t know why I’m kissing Baz. He’s cold; very cold.  
He’s completely frozen, but he’s kissing me back, and it feels right, for some strange reason. I take my hands away from his face and trail them down his arms, and when I reach his lap, I pick up his hands and put them between us. Baz makes a sound in the back of his throat; I can feel it.  
“Baz,” I whisper against his mouth. He makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a whimper, and I pull away, very slightly, just so I can look into his eyes and see what they look like. His eyes are open, just barely, but I can see the desire that lives inside them. They are dark, almost black. Our lips are just barely brushing, and we stare into each other’s eyes. Baz swallows and wraps an arm around my back, pulling me closer. His head falls against my collarbone and he’s breathing heavily. His voice is hoarse when he speaks.  
“Simon, I…” he says quietly; quickly, almost breathlessly.  
“You what, Baz?” I ask softly. Baz looks up back into my eyes.  
“I love you, Simon,” he says quietly, almost breathlessly. I don’t know that to think, and swallow.  
My eyes widen and I slightly pull back, but Baz’s grip is like steel around my waist; I can’t move.  
“You love me?” I ask quietly. Baz smiles.  
“I love you; I have loved you since we were twelve and you wore that pathetic red t-shirt of yours. I’ve loved you since the minute I first saw you,” he says in his normal voice, only this time, it’s full of emotion, and care, and vulnerability; it doesn’t sound like Baz.  
“Since we were twelve?” I breathe. Baz nods and pulls away slightly, he looks deeply into my eyes and cups my cheek in one hand, absentmindedly skimming my skin with his thumb. His touch is soft; delicate, like the rose petals on the Great Lawn.  
I sharply intake a breath. “Baz?” I say, and swallow harshly; I think I can feel my breath travel down my throat and into my lungs.  
Baz grins; he looks unbelievably happy, and I try to smile, but too many things are running through my head to do so.  
  
  
BAZ  
  
I briefly brush my lips against Simon’s. By this time, I’ve lost all control of my thought process; by now, I can’t believe this is happening, and I think I’m dreaming, so I say everything that I’ve dreamed of saying to Simon Snow.  
I’ve never been this vulnerable before; I don’t know if I like it or not. All that’s going through my mind is _don’t wake up don’t wake up don’t wake up don’t wake up._  
  
_don’t wake_ _up_.


End file.
